Target
by Mio-san
Summary: Vash Zwingli is a seasoned police officer chasing after a dangerous criminal. But after he rescues a young girl from the streets, Vash is suddenly tasked with keeping someone alive—other than himself. In a life-threatening game of cat and mouse, can Lilli Zwingli learn to fend for herself? Human AU, light OOC, possible SwitzHun and LiechSwitz. Rated T for violence and dark themes.
1. Crime and Punishment

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm back with yet ANOTHER fanfiction… you can thank angelasdawn47 for inspiring me to write more of Lilli and Switzy!**

**Oh, and also—I know in the summary it warns possible SwitzHun. This is probably a crack pairing. Well, I DON'T CARE. They would be very cute together. So THERE.**

**Enjoy~**

…

Vash Zwingli hated heights.

From his vantage point on top of the building, he could see the entire wedding party; the bride and groom shared pieces of their enormous wedding cake while guests danced around them. It almost made him nauseous to be so high above them, but if Vash had learned anything from his past years of experience, it was that the higher one was, the more of an advantage they had over their adversary. Besides, on a warm, summer's night like this one, no one would bother with looking up. As far as Vash could tell, they were already focused enough on the stemmed glasses in their hands.

_How stupid. _Vash sighed. The target was somewhere down in that crowd, probably drunk—making it even easier for him to be caught. Fortunately, this would also make it easier on Vash. His orders were direct and simple—_Tranquilize the target. Undercover officers will be waiting to take the target to a secure facility._

In other words, Vash just needed to shoot—something he was quite skilled at.

He reached behind him and pulled the rifle out of its sheath, its curves and angles fitting naturally into his hands as if they had been born that way. Vash peered through the crosshairs and magnified its lens, furrowing his brow in concentration as he searched for his target, scanning the lawn below. "Where are you, you little bastard?" he mumbled, his finger locked on the trigger. "You were just there…"

_Aha! _

There he was—right between Vash's crosshairs, checking his watch with the nonchalance of a high-class businessman on a casual errand. He was dressed, as were the other men, in a tuxedo with an unusual orange flower poking out from his lapel—the bird of paradise, Vash knew. Of course, he wasn't one for flowers—that was the target's signal, his message. Tonight, a drug exchange would take place between that man and another one of these seemingly innocent people, and it was up to the police to keep it from ever happening.

Breathing in a deep breath, Vash set the rifle near-silently and adjusted the crosshairs a final time, making sure that the man was in his line of sight. He shifted on his perch and fingered the trigger with a leather-gloved hand, preparing to shoot. It would hardly make a sound, as the mufflers were state-of-the-art; however, Vash preferred to check them himself, as he didn't trust the police technicians. With a final adjustment made, the officer prepared to shoot, and then—

_Click._

"Don't move, or I shoot you."

_Oh, crap._

Vash felt the cold metal of a pistol buried in his blonde hair and clenched his fists with frustration. _God-dangit. They said they were going to take care of anyone else. What the hell did they mean by that?_

"Okay," the voice said, its deep vibrato barely reaching Vash's ears. "Drop the gun and turn around. _Slowly_."

Obediently, Vash laid the rifle at his feet and straightened, second by painstaking second. He turned around—very, _very _slowly—and faced his attacker, a man who looked far older than Vash himself. _Probably in his thirties or so_. The man was, indeed, holding a silver pistol that glinted in the moonlight, and it was pointed at Vash's forehead. "Now," he directed. "Put your hands up."

Vash did so, analyzing the man carefully. He was large and muscular, and his hair was shaved close to his head in the military crew-cut style. The strangest thing about him, however, was that he was wearing a white tuxedo with a bedraggled rose in the lapel, and shiny loafers that looked far too small. His fingers were thick and short, and as he shifted the pistol, Vash caught a glance of what appeared to be a Jewish star tattoo on his wrist.

"So," he said dryly, keeping his hands in the air. "You're one of those gorillas for hire, I see."

"Shut up," Crew Cut ordered. "Not another word, or I shoot you." He had a thick accent, now that Vash thought about it—not Russian, not French, perhaps… German? He definitely wasn't Japanese, the officer decided. That information was key.

Crew Cut cocked the pistol. "Alright. Now walk around me and to the roof exit. Don't go down there, just wait at the door."

Vash met his gaze with an equally fierce one as he turned and walked past the man, feeling the gun's barrel at his back. He crossed the roof to the exit, his mind moving at a million miles an hour, and stood at the door as Crew Cut had commanded. Then he waited.

"Now," came Crew Cut's voice behind him. "Open the door. Go downstairs. And no funny business, either. Or—"

"No, wait, let me guess," Vash deadpanned. "You'll shoot me."

"_Shut up_!" The barrel was pressed harder into his back.

Slowly, Vash grasped the door handle and opened it, letting it swing all the way open and bounce on its hinges. Then, faster than Crew Cut could press the trigger, he grabbed the edge of the doorframe and whipped around, driving his foot into Crew Cut's stomach. The man doubled over, gasping, and Vash leapt at him, punching his adversary hard in the jaw. Crew Cut groaned with pain and swung at the lighter man with a stubby fist, catching Vash under the ribs. He fell back in shock, but recovered as soon as his mind caught up to the proceedings and counterattacked, reaching up to hit Crew Cut's neck where he knew several sensitive nerves resided. However, the man caught Vash's hand before it could make contact and twisted his arm painfully. Biting his lip to stifle a scream, Vash stomped hard on Crew Cut's foot—a cliché and typically weak move, but astonishingly effective, though he probably owed it to the loafers. Crew Cut yelped and the pistol dropped to the ground.

_There!_ Vash dropped and reached toward the pistol, but Crew Cut's foot found his forehead and kicked him backwards, leaving behind a throbbing headache. Vash rolled and darted behind one of the chimneys, fumbling for his rifle on the dark ground. A hand groped the handle and he snatched it up, slipping nimbly out of Crew Cut's reach. Crew Cut roared in rage and fired, the bullet clipping Vash's arm. He bit even harder on his lip, feeling blood slide down his sleeve and tasting it in his mouth, and swung the rifle with all of his might. It connected with a loud and ugly-sounding _crack! _against Crew Cut's skull. He screamed in pain and caught Vash's hair between his fingers (_What the hell, Elizaveta, _he moaned silently, _this is why I need to cut my hair!_), yanking the young officer backwards. Vash clutched the rifle and drove it behind him, straight into Crew Cut's side. He gasped and released him, leaving Vash reeling and fighting for breath.

With yet another roar, Crew Cut attacked Vash, fists pummeling his stomach and chest. Vash bit his fingers and tasted blood—as ashamed as he was, desperate times called for desperate measures. He jabbed his rifle at Crew Cut's face and the bigger man yelled, clutching his eye and stumbling backwards. Vash scouted out his advantage and swung his rifle once more, making contact with Crew Cut's temple. He could feel the vibrations rattling his arm and swung it once more as the man swayed dizzily.

"Go screw yourself, bastard," Vash spat, and with one final blow, Crew Cut collapsed, unconscious.

With an exhausted sigh, the officer staggered and sank into a sitting position against the nearby chimney. He was almost certain that his shoulder was dislocated, and one of his opponent's punches had _definitely _cracked a rib—how serious it was, Vash wasn't sure. There was also, naturally, the bullet wound in his arm (he thanked his lucky stars that it had just grazed the skin), and his lip, which had no doubt been bitten to shreds. Vash swiped his hand across his chin and examined the blood on his glove.

It hurt, but he would survive.

Crawling back over to his vantage point, Vash slumped against the bricks nearby, sweeping the lawn below with his sharp, green-eyed gaze. He knew that if he didn't get back to headquarters soon enough, his energy would drain rapidly, and an incapacitated officer was the last thing the force needed. Vash gritted his teeth and focused his rifle, squinting through the crosshairs. He could feel a dull, throbbing pain from his injured arm where it was pressed against the barrel, and winced as the open wound grazed the rifle's unforgiving wooden surface.

_Holy crap. Roderich is going to kill me. He'll probably start going on about various infections and the rest of that—_

_There he is! _Adrenaline rose in Vash's veins as he caught sight of the target once more. No one in the wedding party had seemed to take notice of his scuffle with Crew Cut, and were still waltzing about below, clinking wine glasses and laughing. The target was among them, smiling and socializing, weaving between bodies. The bird of paradise was still in his lapel.

_Thank God. I'm not too late. _Vash cocked the rifle, suddenly reeling. He gripped the barrel even harder and forced himself to remain conscious. The officer had been through far worse and he was _not _about to collapse, not when he was so close. Biting down on his lip once more and tasting the salty, metallic flavor of blood on his tongue, Vash checked his crosshairs one last time, adjusted the rifle, and fired.

The target dropped.

Vash blacked out.

…

"…I'm going to kill him, I really am."

"Elizaveta-san, he just went through quite an ordeal. Let him rest."

"God dangit, Roderich, he was beaten half to death! He can thank his lucky stars that someone found him on the roof, and that _that someone _just happened to be one of ours! Do you know what the odds are for that?! They're _insane_! Okay, that settles it. The next time someone sends _him _out on a life-threatening mission, _I'm coming too_. End of story."

"Ah—Elizaveta-san—you can't just decide that—"

"Sure as hell I can! Like I'd let him suffer! He makes it hard for himself; I'm just making it easier. Why would you fight against that?"

"Well, for one thing, he's very independent, you know that. And as much as I despise the fact that he can't keep himself out of danger, it's my responsibility to make sure he doesn't kill himself."

"Oh, come on. You hate him as much as I hate that he's too stubborn to accept my help—"

"Bastards."

Vash was wide awake, and glaring.

"V-Vash!" Elizaveta shrieked. She grabbed the skin over her heart and made a growling sound deep in her throat—the kind you might here from an angry mother lion. "You could do with not scaring the hell out of us once in a while!"

"Well, I'm sorry for not introducing myself first," Vash snapped, gritting his teeth. He sat up and his eyes widened, the young officer's equivalent of a pained scream. "Roderich, what the in the _name _of God did you do to me?"

Roderich smirked at him. "Well, as unfortunate as it is, I'm the one tasked with patching you up. You had two cracked ribs, a bruised diaphragm, a bullet wound to the left arm—and I won't even bring up the sliced lip, dislocated shoulder, and broken jaw."

"He broke my _jaw_?" Vash croaked, fingering his chin. It protested with a bolt of pain and he jerked his hand away, wincing. "Never mind. He did."

"You idiot," Elizaveta sighed. She put her hands on her hips and leaned against the counter. "Thanks to you, the criminal was apprehended. But it wasn't worth all the trouble."

"It's not like I went _looking _for a fight."

"Of course not." The Hungarian woman narrowed her eyes at him. "But you have on more than one other occasion. So naturally, that was what we all assumed."

Vash felt his face turn bright red. "I—I already said I didn't go looking for a fight! I'm better about that sort of thing!"

"Denial," murmured Roderich, shaking his head in pity. "Likely delirious."

"Shut up, you…!" Vash half-lunged off the bed, but Elizaveta caught his arms and forced him back into a sitting position. For a young woman with a slightly-more-than-petite stature and all of the curves where they should be, she was surprisingly strong.

Of course, this wasn't too much of a shock to Vash. There was a rumor circulating that Elizaveta's psychotic ex-boyfriend had broken into her house while she was cooking dinner (though the motive was unknown) and had reportedly gotten a frying pan to the head—a very hot frying pan with sunny-side-up eggs stuck to the bottom.

So, naturally, no one bothered her when she was in the staff kitchen.

"Whoa," Elizaveta breathed, her hands firmly on Vash's chest. He relaxed his tense muscles and laid back on the bed's feathery mattress, still steaming.

"You needn't have stopped me, you know."

"Well," she sniffed, crossing her arms. "I wouldn't have—but some people here value Roderich's life."

"And I'm assuming that someone is you," Roderich deadpanned from behind her.

"Shut up."

Vash sighed, linking his arms behind his head (to a stab of pain from his injury, but he didn't mind). "So? What's Ludwig think of all of this?"

"He's pissed," Elizaveta said, wincing.

"_Very _pissed," Roderich confirmed.

"Really." Vash wasn't afraid of the director of the Special Operatives Japanese Police, as many were, but when Ludwig got angry, he tended to rant. When he tended to rant, he tended to rant to the very person who couldn't care less about what he had to say. And when that person was Vash Zwingli… he was hardly in the mood to sit in the director's office like a naughty child sent to the principal.

"I won't take any of his crap," he stated, slightly enjoying the shocked look on Roderich's face. "He wants to tell me how stupid I was being, he can tell it to my closed door."

"You have a death wish, Vash," said Elizaveta bluntly.

"And that's why I'm perfect for this job." Vash didn't even smile. It wasn't a joke.

"Good grief." Roderich sighed. "Well, the least you could do is rest for a while. I won't have the director hassling me because you insist on exerting yourself. So _please _do me a favor and just let yourself sleep."

Vash glared. "I'm not sleeping. Not after this."

Elizaveta scowled at him. "And what are you going to do, then? Limp around headquarters like a three-legged cat?"

"Hey," Roderich protested.

"Calm down, I'm not badmouthing Alto," the young woman said, waving him off. Alto was Roderich's cat, a three-legged stray he had rescued from the streets and whom Vash was convinced could hiss in harmony with the piano. He was also the official Special Ops mascot, and was currently asleep in the corner.

Roderich huffed. "And as well you shouldn't. Alto is quite valuable to me."

"You're not going to become one of those crazy cat people, right?"

"Of course not! I am fond of that cat, but that does not make me a 'crazy cat person' as you put it."

"I'm just wondering."

"Well, it's a foolish wonder."

"_Are you trying to say I'm stupid_?"

"N-no! Where on Earth did you get that idea?!"

"Well, after the fact that you're so very protective of dear little Alto…"

"Will you both stop going on about that stupid cat?!" Vash interjected. Elizaveta, who had a strange smile on her face and a frying pan in hand (_Where the hell did she get that?_ he thought) halted in her pursuit of Roderich, who was backing away slowly, hands raised (the reasonable reply to a threat when it came to Elizaveta).

"Oh, alright," she said, re-crossing her arms. "But in return, we're going to leave, and you're going to rest."

"What?" the officer argued, at the same time Roderich uttered an equally dismayed cry.

"That's right—_both of you, boys_!" Elizaveta said sternly. She grabbed Roderich by the arm, the latter protesting, and dragged him towards the door. Pausing at the exit, the Hungarian woman cast Vash her fiercest glare. "And if you try to leave, I'll know about it! Got that?"

Vash wasn't one to give up easily, but he knew that look in Elizaveta's eyes. That was the look he couldn't sway. "Fine," he grumbled, narrowing his eyes at her. "But as soon as I'm ready, I'm coming out there."

"Yeah. Good luck with that, trigger boy." Elizaveta pulled on Roderich's arm and left the room.

_Trigger boy?_

Vash groaned and leaned back on the mattress. He stared up at the smooth white plaster and linked his fingers behind his head, feeling the weight of his head on the wound that Roderich had bandaged—he had already become accustomed to the way it spiked dully at his nerves. The injuries would no doubt set him back a few days; both Roderich and Ludwig would probably insist he take a few days off to recover. But Vash would just have to shake them off as he usually did. He had taught himself to be resilient, and there was not an hour he would waste resting if it was valuable time he could be spending earning money.

Of course, Elizaveta called it his greatest weakness—Vash refused to swallow his pride, no matter what the circumstances. He supposed that was why he felt so ashamed, lying there in the infirmary, especially since he had brought down a criminal and could hardly be there to testify. It drove the officer insane. But he also knew that Elizaveta would kill him if he strayed from the bed… so Vash decided that resting wouldn't be so bad after all.

He sighed and shifted on the mattress, trying to get comfortable. It helped that he was exhausted, and within a matter of minutes Vash felt himself slipping into unconsciousness, still staring up at the blank ceiling. He yawned and closed his eyes, feeling relief wash over him as blackness obscured his vision and the rest of the world fell away.

…

Roderich awoke him about an hour later at closing time, when the rest of the officers were going home. After the force's resident doctor had given the all-clear on his state of health, Vash had bid Elizaveta goodbye and took off as soon as he could, leaving promptly as not to run into Ludwig on the way out. Drawing his green Army coat around him, he adjusted the beige beret on his head and hurried through the cold, rainy night, anxious to get home. Vash hardly had the money to hail a taxi, and even if he could have, that time of night was far too busy. The streets were already clogged with cars, blaring their horns at pedestrians, and so Vash took the back streets. The alleys were dangerous in Tokyo, but he didn't care. After taking on many hardened criminals, the officer prided himself on invincibility.

He was strong, but small, and fast. That was an advantage many others on the force would die to have.

Vash shivered, feeling rivulets of water run down his neck and bury themselves in the fabric of his shirt. He picked up the pace as the rain poured down on him, wishing for an umbrella. It _was _a thoroughly miserable night, as the forecast had predicted. _Are you happy, Elizaveta? _Vash thought irritably. _I should have dressed warmer. You win._

He turned a corner and started down the next alley, knowing that his apartment was near. Vash flexed his fingers inside his gloves to keep them warm and allowed a slight spring in his step, wincing at every splash. He would get home, warm up some popcorn, and watch an action movie—preferably with shooting involved—and then go to bed, waking up refreshed and energized the next day. _I'll be fine, _he reassured himself. _I'm strong. If anything, I'll be a bit sore. But fine._

And then he saw her.

Vash's eyes widened. Leaning weakly against the stone wall of the alley was a young girl with straw-blond hair, dressed in a ragged white dress. Her feet were torn and bloody, as if she had been walking for some time, and her eyes were closed, though they fluttered as Vash approached. The girl's skin was very pale, and as she stirred, he thought he could see a trace of ribs beneath the fabric—obviously she hadn't had anything decent to eat in a while.

As if he had forgotten to speak, it took Vash a few moments to find his voice. When he did, it came out shocked, and uncertain. "O—oi. Are you alright?"

The girl's eyes opened, slowly. They were a green color not unlike Vash's, and that combined with her short, boyish haircut reminded Vash of himself.

However, she did not speak.

"Oi." Vash's voice was louder this time. "Can you hear me?"

The girl nodded, gradually.

"Good." He exhaled. "What happened to you?"

She shuddered and pressed herself against the wall, shaking her head imperceptibly.

"Okay…" Vash felt his tongue pressed against his teeth in frustration. "Did someone hurt you?"

The girl said nothing.

"Please." The officer felt an inexplicable wave of protectiveness for this girl he had found half-dead in the alley. "I need to know. _Did someone hurt you_?"

It took several moments. Finally, she shook her head.

"Alright…" So she was one of the poor residents, the minority in Tokyo driven to the streets due to population inflation. Vash knelt, moment by painstaking moment, until he was at the girl's level. Then he extended his hand. It barely reached her knee before she flinched, and Vash quickly drew it away, not wanting to frighten her.

"Okay," he said softly. "Okay. I won't touch you. I promise. But at least let me take you with me."

She looked up at him. _What?_

Vash was already hating himself for the surge of bad judgment. His salary was barely enough to support him alone… but it wasn't like she would be staying with him forever. He would let her stay for a night, then take her to a shelter in the morning—they could take her off of his hands. But for now… Vash couldn't let her sit here and starve. He extended his hand once again. "I'm not just going to let you die here. So c'mon. I have food over at my place. We can get you a bed, too, and everything. Is that okay?"

The girl fidgeted and looked hopelessly down at her injured feet.

"That—that's fine. Why don't I carry you?" She looked light enough, Vash thought. "If that's okay, of course."

She nodded. Once, twice.

_God, this girl must be desperate, _the officer mused, as he edged towards the girl and lifted her into his arms, bridal-style. She winced, but made no comment—as if her voice was gone. _Accepting help from a total stranger._

_But…_

Vash looked down at her. She was staring up into his eyes, her pupils milky and unfocused, her limbs dangling weakly. And yet there was something about her that bloomed innocence, like a white rose in the rain. She was like a baby lamb, wobbling on her first legs. She didn't know any better. She just wanted protection.

_Oh, screw it, _Vash groaned silently, as he met her eyes. Out loud, he just sighed, and set off through the rain with a girl he barely knew in his arms, looking up at him gratefully—there was something in her eyes that words could not express. He knew this.

_I protected him so long ago. Now—however abrupt and strange it might seem—I vow to protect you._

...

**A/N: Done! R&R everyone and I'll see you next time!**


	2. Hesitance

**A/N: Hi everyone!**

**So, before we begin, I'll go ahead and answer a few reviews:**

**Dextra2 – Thanks for your sweet review! I hope I don't disappoint in future chapters.**

**kheelwithit – Your thoughtful criticism has given me the chance to improve far beyond any previous quality my writing may have held. I promise to act on your suggestions, and I hope you stick with the story as I fight to make it better!**

**angelasdawn47, my wonderful beta – Thank you for giving me the idea for this story and being readily willing to help me out! Answers will be given soon enough, don't worry… Gilbert will be in this story, sooner than you think.**

**koryandrs – As usual, I can count on you for a positive review~**

**And just a thank you to Guest-san, who also reviewed my story but whose name I do not know! Thank you, everyone, for reading so far, and enjoy the newest installment of Target!**

...

Vash had nothing against charity. He was perfectly fine with generous couples and families that chose to waste their money on the less fortunate. But this, he thought, watching the girl plow through a loaf of bread, was a little ridiculous.

They had gotten to the apartment at around 10:00, her almost falling asleep in his arms. Though she still refused to speak—which Vash found somewhat irritating—any reasonable individual could have derived from her longing glances toward the kitchen that the girl was hungry, so after offering her an oversized t-shirt and shorts to change into (no doubt a welcome relief from the soaking dress she had been in), he had thrown some instant rice at the stove and set out a blanket on the couch for the girl to sleep on. However, after devouring the rice at an almost incomprehensible speed, she had simply looked up at him with her huge, longing, mint green eyes as if to say, Please let me have some more. I'm so hungry.

Which was doubtless along the lines of what she most likely would have said if not for the fact that she refused to speak, Vash thought irritably as he delved into the pantry, doing the calculations in his head as to what exactly this would set him back. Roderich loved to drop comments about how "stingy" he was with money, though Vash typically shrugged them off, as the force's doctor was quite conservative himself. Regardless, not even he could ignore the girl's remarkable appetite, and had proceeded to offer her a banana, a bowl of microwavable pasta, and a loaf of French bread he had been saving for himself, yet there it was, being devoured too.

Vash simply pulled out a chair at the dining table and watched her eat, wondering how long it had been since she had been served a proper meal. If he had noticed anything when he had first come across her in the alley, it was how very thin she was, and now that she had been given proper nutrition (if rice, fruit, a microwavable bowl of cholesterol and dough could be considered nutrition) it was like she hadn't eaten in a year.

Perhaps that was somewhat close to the truth.

The girl finished her last piece of French bread and looked across the room at Vash, her eyes wide, as if to say, I can't believe you let me eat all of this.

"Me neither," the officer said quietly. He got up from the table and walked over to the kitchen counter, peering at the open pantry. "Is there anything else you want?"

She shook her head.

"Really?" Vash met her eyes. "Okay, fine. I'm going to bed if there's nothing else you need."

Fidgeting, the girl nodded.

"Well, then. Goodnight," the green-eyed teenager said awkwardly. He turned away and was halfway across the room when someone cleared their throat and a tremulous, clear voice rang out into the silence.

"Lilli."

"Sorry?" Vash looked back over his shoulder.

"Lilli," the girl repeated. Her lips were cracked and dry, but the voice emitting from them was sweet and innocent—somehow resembling the one Vash had imagined. "My name is Lilli."

"Um… Vash," said Vash. "Vash Zwingli. You should probably get to bed, Lilli."

"Oh… you're right." Lilli bowed her head and turned away, sliding down onto the couch cushions. She turned over on her stomach and made contact with Vash's eyes once more, the expression on her face hopeful and content despite her ragged state. "Thank you."

Although it was a somewhat normal response, Vash got the feeling that it meant much more from her standpoint. He offered what he hoped passed for a smile, though due to the way it stretched his lips he got the feeling it was more of a grimace. "You're… er… welcome. It was nothing."

"Thank you," Lilli repeated, and slid down further on the couch's leather surface, burying herself under the blanket. With an oddly uncomfortable ache building at the base of his ribs, Vash flipped the light switch and turned off the lights, leaving the young girl resting in the dark. He turned away and made his way down the hallway towards where he knew his bedroom was. Without bothering to change into something more comfortable, Vash simply fell onto his mattress, ignoring the pain throbbing in his chin and pricking at the wound in his arm. Tomorrow he would call the police to pick the girl up, or take her to a shelter. She would certainly not be living with him - after all, it was enough that he had himself to take care of, but another, younger individual in the house would be far too troublesome.

So, it was decided then. Vash shifted on the bed and closed his eyes, feeling a wave of tiredness wash over him. Tomorrow the girl would be someone else's problem—there was no reason to worry.

…

When Vash woke, sunlight was streaming into the room through a crack in the curtains, and the sound of the stove hissing and sizzling floated past his half-open door. He groaned and shifted on the mattress in a vain effort to get back to sleep, knowing that his aching limbs would hardly vanish into thin air as soon as he got up.

_Wait a second. Hissing and sizzling? What in the world?_

Eyes narrowed—with the faintest spark of curiosity glimmering in their mint green depths—Vash pulled the covers away and got up, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He walked to the window first and opened the curtains, squinting in the early morning sunlight, then crossed the room to the door and poked his head out into the hallway. The sounds remained, growing louder as if taunting him, and he frowned, the muscles in his jaw tensing painfully in protest. Vash emerged into the hall and crept towards the kitchen, his footsteps perfectly silent on the wooden floor. You never knew in Tokyo—it could be some freeloader, stealing breakfast out of Vash's pantry, or perhaps the woman down the hall who could never remember where her apartment was. She had walked into his place more than a few times. Of course, it could also be a robber—but why would they cook breakfast at the stove? Were they stupid? It could also be one of those idiotic teenage kids, playing a joke…

… Or it could be Lilli, standing at the stove and poking at two sunny-side-up eggs with a wooden spoon while something simmered in the pot next to it and a delicious aroma wafted into the air. She was wearing Vash's too-big apron over her white dress (apparently she had dried it overnight) and was humming to herself as she tended to the eggs, shifting the pan every once in a while like an expert.

It took a few moments for Vash to realize that he was gaping, his mouth flapping wordlessly like an idiotic fish's. When he finally made the connection between that and the air that was streaming down his throat, he pressed his lips together and managed, "What—um—you—"

"Oh?" Lilli turned around, and Vash took a moment to look at her in the daylight. She really did look like him, he thought, in some weird, genderbent way—there was the firm chin, the sharp cheekbones, the mint green eyes, the short, blond hair and stiff stature, even if Lilli gave it more of a relaxed feel. She was like a smaller, calmer version of him, Elizaveta might have said, even though the thought made Vash roll his eyes. He was in no way related to some girl off of the street. And yet there was that spooky resemblance.

"Mr. Zwingli? Was there something you needed?" Lilli was still standing frozen by the stove, spoon suspended in the air.

"Oh—right—yeah." Vash hated the awkward tone in his voice. "I didn't—that is to say, I wasn't—I didn't think that—"

"—I could cook?" the blonde girl finished, blushing. "I'm sorry. I won't if you don't want me to—"

"No, no, it's fine." No doubt about it, Vash's face was probably as red as Lilli's. He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably, eyeing the food sizzling behind her. "That's… eggs and rice, right?"

"I'm sorry," Lilli said hurriedly. "It was the only thing I knew how to make, and—"

She stopped short as Vash pulled out a chair at the table and sat down, wooden legs grating against the polished auburn floor. "I… don't mind if you make breakfast. But I have to leave soon, so make it quick."

Lilli's eyes lit up. "Thank you, Mr. Zwingli!" She immediately turned her attention back to the food, grabbing a plate she had obviously set out beforehand and flipping one of the eggs onto it before spooning a good-sized serving of rice beside it. She served up another egg and then plucked a piece of toast from the toaster to put on the side, turning around and smiling shyly as she placed the plate in front of Vash. "Umm… enjoy!"

Forking a piece of egg along with some toast, Vash took his first bite and his eyes widened. A burst of flavor exploded in his mouth, tingling all the way down his throat and stimulating his senses. The girl had talent. "This… is good."

"Really?" Lilli beamed. "I'm so glad you like it! I tried my hardest!"

"Yeah… well…" Vash felt a surge of embarrassment. "I'll eat it. But we have to leave as soon as—"

_Trittst im Morgenot daher,_

_She'ich dich im Strahlenmeer_

_Dich, du Hocherhadbener, Herrlich—_

Vash picked up his phone from where it was lying on the table and pressed the "Answer call" button, promptly cutting off the Swiss national anthem as it blared through the device's tiny speakers. "Vash Zwingli."

_"VASH! You little—ho intenzione di [I'm going to]—where in the NAME of hell are you?! Ludwig's been talking my freakin' EAR off for the last HOUR about your freakin' CARELESSNESS and I just—sei morto [you are SO dead]—GOD DANGIT, ALTO, STOP LICKING MY ANKLE! Roderich, get your freakin' cat off of me—good RIDDANCE, too! Where was I—oh yeah! And everyone's convinced you didn't make it home last night—FELI! Stupido! That's the computer! I don't CARE if you spilled your freakin' pasta, make more! Oh God, someone get me a tomato… VASH! You get yourself down here RIGHT NOW or SO HELP ME, I will DRIVE down there and kick your SORRY BUTT to the NEXT DIMENSION! GOD DANGIT ALTO!"_

"Chiara, take your aspirin," Vash told her.

_"I don't care about freakin' aspirin! Everyone's screwed themselves since the message came last night—"_

"Chiara—"

_"—and now Ludwig's convinced that they got a hold of you—"_

"Chiara—"

_"—and Elizaveta's strangling Roderich—"_

"Chiara." Vash clenched the phone. "What did you say?"

He could picture the dark-haired Italian woman frozen on the other end, like she was when her mind was trying to comprehend something. _"I said, Elizaveta's strangling Roderich—"_

"No, before that—"

_"Um, Ludwig's convinced they've got a hold of you—"_

"Before that, Chiara."

_"Oh."_ Chiara paused. _"A message came last night. After you left. Something about this whole drug-deal mess being a setup. No one'll tell me—superior bastards. They think they've got control of me, well, I'll show them who's in charge—"_

Vash bit his lip. "Stay on topic." Next to him, Lilli tried to form a question, but he shushed her.

_"Oh yeah—well—I really don't know much about it. The higher-ups are being completely hush-hush. To be honest, I don't even think any of the others know. We're all in the dark, this time."_

"Have you heard anything?"

_"God, you're stingy with words—I've told you that before, haven't I?"_

Vash nodded wearily, although he knew it wouldn't make a difference to Chiara on the other end.

_"Well, it was a total mess when it first came in—Feliks and Toris intercepted it through the message boards, and then of course that stupid blonde had to make a huge deal of it, and that got everyone else involved, and by the time we got it to Ludwig Alfred was raising hell over the whole place—but no, I didn't hear much. Just a whole bunch of shouting and crap. Tino and Berwald came back from the shooting range—they almost got mowed down from the way the corridor was at the time."_

"What does Ludwig think?"

_"Ah, he's pissed, as usual. Says it's the last time this guy is going to evade us—like he's dealt with him before."_

"So it's one person." Vash furrowed his brow in thought.

_"Apparently so. I can't get a single piece of info out of anyone. Are you coming to the office or not?"_

"Of course."

_"Well, you better be quick. Elizaveta looks pretty ticked, though with the way everyone's behaving around here, I wouldn't be surprised if she punched through a wall."_

"One more thing." Vash pressed his ear to the phone. "You said none of the superiors know a thing?"

_"Well… I don't know that, exactly. I tried getting some info out of Kiku, but you know how he is—stubborn as a rock, even if someone wears him down. God dangit, Vash, just get over here."_ Chiara sounded weary. _"I'm tired of dealing with all this crap."_

"I will." Sighing, Vash looked over at Lilli, who had sat down across from him and was eating her rice and eggs with hesitance. "See you then."

_"Ciao, bastardo."_ Chiara hung up.

Vash got up from the table and strode across the room to the hall, grabbing his Army coat and beret and sliding his arms through the sleeves as he walked. "Lilli."

"Yes, Mr. Zwingli?" The blonde girl looked up from her food, her gaze apprehensive.

_I promised myself I'd take her to a shelter, but…_ Vash brought his palm to his forehead in irritation. "Grab a pair of my boots over there and meet me at the door. We're going out."

"Where?" Lilli was already up and pulling the boots on.

"You'll see."

It looked as if he would be stuck with her for a little longer.

…

Elizaveta met them at the entrance, looking frazzled, energized, and as Chiara had said, "pretty ticked" all at the same time. She took one look at Vash's lopsided beret and the girl lingering at his side and said, "Vash Zwingli! You didn't tell me you had a visitor!"

"Well—I—" Vash began, but Elizaveta had already swooped in on Lilli and had gone into what the force jokingly referred to as "full-out-fangirl-mode," cooing over Lilli's too-big shoes, her oversized coat, and the white dress that honestly didn't look so white anymore. "You're so adorable! Are you Vash's cousin? You look like you could be his little sister! Aww, I have to get my camera—has Vash been good to you? I hope he's been treating you well! Someone as cute as you shouldn't have to—"

"Elizaveta," Vash said quietly.

The Hungarian woman looked up. "What?"

"She's not my relative. I rescued her off of the streets last night."

She halted and glanced down at Lilli once more. The girl's pupils were wide and uncertain, and it was only then that a light sparked to life in Elizaveta's eyes. "Oh," she said softly. "Oh, I see. You're one of the inflation cases, aren't you?"

Lilli clearly had no idea what that meant, but Vash guessed that she nodded anyway to be polite.

Elizaveta's face morphed into an expression of pure sympathy. "You poor thing…" she murmured. "Oh my God. Was she starving?" This was to Vash. "She wasn't unconscious, was she?"

"No, she wasn't unconscious." Vash's mind instinctively flashed back to the night before. "Cold, and probably hungry. But she was awake."

"Oh, thank the Lord." Elizaveta placed a hand on her chest. She rested the other one in Lilli's hair and smiled down at her, her expression becoming one of—if Vash hadn't known any better—instinctual maternity. "So you've come for a day at work, huh? You've certainly picked an interesting time to visit. We've got a cat, you know. His name is Alto. You want to meet him? RODERICH! Bring Alto over here! It's kind of busy in here, you'll have to watch your step… but no one'll bother you, don't worry…"

Internally rolling his eyes, Vash followed the amiably chatty Elizaveta and a silent, rapt Lilli into the lobby of the Special Forces building, which was buzzing with activity. He spotted guards strolling to and from the elevators and officers balancing stacks of paperwork—of course, there was also the incessant ringing of a thousand phones at once, and the voice of their secretary, Katyusha Braginski, straining to be heard above everyone else's as she answered their many demands. While Elizaveta and Lilli talked, Vash drifted away and towards the desk, watching the young woman shuffle papers with her left hand while she cradled the phone between her cheek and her shoulder and scribbled notes with her right hand.

"I see—no, that's plus-eighty-one-three. International. My boss needs it in the next week—oh, couldn't you send it on the next flight, then? Yes. Yes. Hm? Ah—would you please hold for a moment? Hello? Katyusha Braginski, Special Forces. Ma'am, this is the police. Oh, I see. It's no trouble at all. Have a nice day. Hello? Yes, I'm still here. So about that package—yes, could it be here in this next week? That would be wonderful. Thank you so much. Alright—goodbye! Hello, Katyusha Braginski, Special Forces. Ah, I understand. Could I direct you to the complaints desk? I'm so sorry. That must have been terrible. No, I completely understand. Just wait a moment and I'll connect you with someone, okay? Thank you!"

Katyusha slipped the phone into its cradle and delved into another stack of paper as Vash approached, his mint green eyes darting around nervously. He hated one-on-one confrontation. "Miss Braginski?"

"Oh? Oh, Vash! Hello!" Katyusha beamed at him, her short, silver hair bobbing excitedly. "I heard you were injured on your last mission! That's healing up alright, I hope."

"It's been just fine," Vash replied, somewhat awkwardly. He liked Katyusha, but she was a difficult person to talk to—not in any negative way, simply because she was just too nice. She would nod and agree enthusiastically to anything he said, then sit patiently and wait for him to move on to another topic. Considering Vash wasn't much of a talker, this made it hard to move a conversation forward. "I was wondering if you could tell me anything about what happened last night."

Katyusha's eyes lifted to meet Vash's. "Oh… you mean the message? I'm sorry, dear, but I don't know a thing about it. I'm just the secretary."

Vash flexed his fingers and sighed. "Not anything? Phone calls, requests…"

Putting her hands on her hips, Katyusha shot him a pointed look. "Vash Zwingli. I am not going to divulge any personal information. You should know better than that! Even if I did know anything—which I don't—I wouldn't be able to tell you. These things are quite important, you know."

Shifting his weight, Vash fought the urge to drop his eyes. It was ridiculous to him how he could stand up to a shouting, red-faced Ludwig and an ill-mannered, bad-tempered Chiara, but when Katyusha scolded him, he couldn't help but feel embarrassed. "I apologize, Miss Braginski."

Katyusha sighed. "That's perfectly alright, Vash. I'm sure Mr. Beilschmidt has every intention of telling you. Which reminds me—the others are waiting in the conference room. I trust Miss Héderváry will be taking care of your little friend?" She gestured to across the room, where Elizaveta was showing Lilli how to work the hot chocolate machine.

"She's going to the meeting as well, right?"

"Ah, of course! I'm sorry." Laughing, the secretary knocked on the side of her head. "You know… I could watch her, if you like."

"Are you sure? You don't even know her." Vash frowned.

"Of course I'm sure!" Katyusha nodded firmly. "Why don't you bring her over here and we can introduce ourselves? She seems like a lovely young girl… your cousin, perhaps?"

The last thing Vash wanted to do was explain the entire situation over again, but he just exhaled heavily and rubbed his temples. "I found her on the streets last night and brought her in. We're not related."

The Russian woman's eyes widened in shock. "Oh… oh, dear… the poor little thing… I'm so sorry, I didn't know. It's just that you two look so alike—"

_There it is again._

"It's fine," he interrupted. "I'll be right back."

The crowd parted easily before Vash; as Elizaveta had often told him, he had an aura of one "not to be messed with," not unlike herself. The Hungarian woman in question, he saw, was in fact now sipping hot chocolate with Lilli and talking between sips, wincing visibly as the liquid scalded her tongue. "…and he joined the force a year later, but he was really so quiet, and he still is—"

"Elizaveta."

She looked up to Vash's voice and smiled. "There you are! I was telling Lilli all about when you first joined the—"

"I heard." Vash did not want to hear that story again in the least. "You and I have to go to the meeting, and Katyusha volunteered to look after Lilli."

"Oh, really?" Elizaveta cast a glance at Katyusha over at the desk, who had gotten on the phone once more. "Well, good. Lilli, you don't mind staying with Miss Braginski, do you? She's the woman over there at the desk."

"I don't mind," Lilli said. She didn't seem put off in the slightest as to being taken under the care of a complete stranger. "Where are you going?"

"The force is having a meeting," Vash explained curtly. "Elizaveta and I have to be there."

"Oh. I see."

Vash had to admit he was impressed at her level of tolerance, but didn't say anything. "Can you find your way there on your own?"

Lilli nodded. "Yes. Good luck at your meeting, Mr. Zwingli." With a sweet smile, she nodded at Elizaveta and dived into the crowd, weaving easily through waves of people.

Vash and Elizaveta watched her go.

"She really likes you, you know."

"Does she, now."

"Yeah. All she would talk about is how kind you were to her. You've done someone quite a service, Vash. I'm proud."

"Let's just get to that meeting, okay?" Vash turned away and strode towards the hallway without another word. He heard footsteps behind him and knew that Elizaveta was following.

Tino was waiting for them outside of the conference room, scribbling notes on a notepad. His blonde hair and playful, sparkling brown eyes would have marked him as a peaceful sort of person, if not for the fact that Tino's sniping skills were legend among the officers. The young Finn could hit any target at short range and, it was rumored, had the ability to kill on sight, though no one had verified that rumor. The Swiss was hesitant to admit it, but Tino was nearly as good a sharpshooter as Vash himself. Possibly better. And no one dared to question his skills, though whether it was out of fear or respect he did not know.

The Finn smiled at the two as they approached, looking up from his notepad. "Elizaveta, Vash! I was wondering when you would show up."

"Hi," was Vash's curt response as he brushed past them. He could feel Elizaveta and Tino's stares burning into his back, and their murmurs drifted past him as he entered the conference room.

"Um… is he alright?"

"I don't know. I need to talk to him. He's been acting weird."

"For how long?"

"Just since last night… Tino, I have to go. Let me know if you hear anything on that pending case, I really need to get that on file…"

Vash furrowed his brow as he stopped at the end of the table, surveying the scene around him. Had he really been acting that strangely? Elizaveta already knew he was quiet… the chaos surrounding him, he decided, would have to take first priority over his other thoughts. As usual, the conference room was in a complete pandemonium—Lukas was choking Mathias with his own tie (so he remembered to wear one, Vash thought) while the Danish man squirmed in his grip; Leon and Emil chatted casually at the table as Mei leaned on the back of his chair; Eduard and Toris shared a newspaper while Raivis hopped up and down between them, and Feliks hung easily on Toris's arm, gossiping avidly about the latest media scandal. Ivan stood behind them, smiling in his usual way, and they seemed to be giving their best efforts towards ignoring him. A paper airplane soared past Vash and he spotted Im Yong Soo immediately, folding what looked like an important document into another plane and shooting it at Kiku, who, as per the usual, was standing quietly with his hands folded in front of him and listening patiently to his older brother or friend, Yao Wang—he would never say which—talk animatedly next to him. An irritated-looking Arthur, who was also giving his best efforts towards ignoring a particularly chatty American officer and sipping a cup of tea while trying not to roll his eyes through his head, promptly snatched it out of the air. As Vash suspected, pandemonium.

Oh, and then there was Chiara.

"Bastardo!"

The brunette Italian stomped towards him, visibly steaming, dragging her unfortunate younger brother by the collar. "Took you long enough, onestamente [honestly]! You have no idea what living hell I've had to put up with. Francis was trying to flirt with Natalya and she almost shot his head off, and Alfred and Arthur got in another shouting match, and then Ivan tried to break them up but someone stepped on Mattie, and of course while this is all happening Toni's hanging around me and being, well, freakin' Toni! Oh my God, and I won't even mention the cat Herakles set loose, it got in a fight with Alto and Roderich raised hell over it trying to separate them and someone fired a blank—actually, I think that was Berwald—or maybe Mathias—but holy mother of all tomatoes, I'm just so—freaking—glad you're here, and you too, Elizaveta, because someone needs to deal with my stupid little brother!"

She shoved Feliciano at Elizaveta, who tripped over his eternally untied shoelaces and stumbled straight into her, naively grinning as he often did. "Oh~ ciao, Elizaveta! Would you happen to have any pasta? I'm hungry, and no one has any food…"

Vash rolled his eyes—internally, once more, because he had never quite mastered doing it himself. Feliciano Vargas, or Feli, as Chiara often referred to him as (other than "stupido!", that is), was notorious for being airheaded and generally clueless, as well as blissfully unaware of anything that happened around him. He was the force's coding expert—for the same strange reason he was a talented artist, Feli could unscramble the most confusing of messages and transcribe it into simple Japanese. He also knew quite a few languages, though not nearly as many as their resident linguist, Toris. However, the Swiss teen found himself constantly irritated by him, and could never seem to snap him to attention… though he and Chiara had tried. And they did try.

"_Buon dio [Good God]._" Chiara smacked her forehead with her palm. "Just please, please shoot me before something else happens. I just know I'll murder the next person I see—"

"Hey! Holá, chica!"

Chiara buried her head in her hands. "And there's Toni."

The cheerful Spaniard bounded up to them and looped his arms around Chiara's waist, pulling her close, to the Italian's chagrin. "I see you made it, Vash! Good, we could use some sense around here, hehe~"

"Get off me, bastard!" Chiara shrieked, shoving Toni away. "See what crap I have to deal with?!" This was to Vash.

"Aww, it's not crap, though," Toni pouted, as Elizaveta led Feli away (most likely for his own safety, Vash guessed). "I just want to spend time with my girl, mm?"

"I am not," said Chiara, in a deadly tone of steel, "your girl. Shut your mouth before I do it for you."

And Elizaveta thought Vash had a temper.

Toni sighed. "Fine. But I won't give up. You know you want to accept my proposal~!" He grinned meaningfully at Chiara, and she turned bright red.

Vash was about to ask when this meeting would actually begin when the door flew open and a large, intimidating figure appeared in the doorway, obscuring the outer light with his tall, sturdy frame.

"EVERYONE QUIET!"

So that was it.

…

**A/N: Thanks for reading and R&R!**


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